


All I Want For Christmas - Is You To Say Yes

by NoctuaLusa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Artist Dean Thomas, Bisexual Dean Thomas, Bisexual Male Character, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Music, Christmas Tree, Fanatical Fam's Holiday Fic Exchange 2020, Gay Male Character, Gay Seamus Finnigan, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Podcast: Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoctuaLusa/pseuds/NoctuaLusa
Summary: Seamus Finnigan was ready. When he heard the soft pop of an Apparition, he checked his preparations for one last time: The playlist was playing (check!), the candles were burning (check!) and two mugs of steaming mulled wine stood on the low table in front of the couch (check!) and... He patted his trouser pocket and felt the small object against his leg (check!). Yes, everything was just as he had planned it for this very special evening.Of course, it would not stay this way.Written for louminosity as part of the Fanatical Fam: Holiday Fic Exchange - happy holidays, louminosity. <3
Relationships: Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: Fanatical Fam's: Holiday Fic Exchange





	All I Want For Christmas - Is You To Say Yes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louminosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louminosity/gifts).



Seamus Finnigan was ready. When he heard the soft pop of an Apparition in the hall of the small London flat, he pressed „Play“ on the stereo. The mixtape he had prepared for this evening started playing softly in the background. Notable softer than the excited meows of Pythagora. With what was practically a howl, the kneazle took off to the hall, where Dean yelled „I’m home!“ – as if this could have slipped the attention of anyone near Pythagora.

„I know,“ Seamus called back grinning and waved his wand to light all the short red candles on the Christmas tree in the corner. Everything was supposed to be perfect tonight! The dancing flames reflected from the red and gold baubles his boyfriend had once painted with tiny Gryffindor lions and made Seamus smile.

Turning on his heel, he checked his preparations for one last time: The playlist was playing (check!), the candles were burning (check!) and two mugs of steaming mulled wine stood on the low table in front of the couch (check!) and... He patted his trouser pocket and felt the small object against his leg. Yes, everything was just as he had planned it for this very special evening.

He made his way out into the hall, where Dean was trying to both getting rid of his snow-covered clothes and petting Pythagora who was very insistent to show how much she loved him. She took umbridge in the fact that snow landed in her tabby fur and disappeared into the kitchen to grumpily meow at the feeding dish that was not empty at all.

Dean sighed with relief, toeing off his snow-crusted boots. Seamus grinned at the sight. He often teased Dean about how it was even possible to get that snowy on your way home when you could just Apparate all the way. But Dean just laughed and said he enjoyed walking, usually followed by pressing his ice cold fingers on Seamus‘ warm skin. Today, Dean wasn’t just covered in white powdery snow, but also splattered with colour – all the shades of green and red shon from his skin and clothes and made him look like Chrismas decoration (the most beautiful kind, Seamus thought). His current job included painting a giant mural in the entry hall of St Mungo’s – a bright and happy Christmas landscape complete with Santa Claus, reindeers, snowy Christmas trees and lots and lots of presents. Those who would have to spend the holidays in the hospital, should at least have a nice colourful wall to look at, Neville had said when he had suggested this project.

Seamus tried to avoid the biggest splotches of colour when he leaned in for a kiss. Dean laughed and got rid of most of the colourful remnants before he hugged his partner properly. He seemed properly giddy.

„I did it, Shay!“ Dean grinned brightly. „I made the reindeers dance and sing!“

It had been a struggle for several days – the young artist had been very concerned about not getting all the legs right, about fucking up the reindeer‘s voices and about making all of it annoying as hell for the people spending time in front of it.

„Yay! Well done, mate!“ Seamus was more than happy to hear that these concerns were behind Dean now. He, of course, had never doubted his partner’s success. He was convinced that Dean could paint all the things in the world – and so were the people of St Mungo’s. But that Dean had finally also come to this insight was a good omen for Seamus asking the question tonight. Very well. „How about a mulled wine to celebrate your victory over the Reindeers from Hell?“

Dean’s grin became even brighter. „Lazy couch evening?“ he asked hopefully.

„U-huh.“ Seamus nodded. Yes, that was almost what he had in mind. He led the way inside, handing Dean one of the steaming mugs and practically wrapping him in the red-and-cream-coloured quilt as soon as Dean was seated (the quilt had been a present from Seamus‘ mum for the first Christmas they had spend in this flat. „I have made it big enough for the two of you,“ his mum had written in the accompanying letter and it had taken a giant weight off Seamus‘ mind – he had been very unsure about how to tell his mum that nope, he and Dean had not looked for a shared flat because of money issues. But apparently, she had known all along). He pressed his knee against his partner’s thigh, clinking their mugs together. Seamus‘ emerald one showed the two yellow Ks of the Kenmare Kestrels, his favourite Quidditch team and Dean’s had the 1999 photo of his favourite soccer team West Ham United printed on it.

„Ah, I feel like I’m in heaven,“ Dean sighed with closed eyes and wrapped his arm around Seamus‘ shoulders. „A very warm and cozy heaven.“

Mariah Carey chose this moment to start singing in the background:

I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need

Seamus took a deep breath. It was now time for step two of his plan. Although he had spend days, even weeks to think about it and he was really, really sure about doing it tonight, his hands were sweaty nevertheless. He inconspiculously wiped them on the quilt.

„Dean,“ he began but just as his boyfriend turned his head and opened one big brown eye that Seamus could stare into for all eternity, there was a tap at the window: A large grey owl had appeared on the window sill, staring inside, its claw raised to tap a second time.

With a cheer, Dean wrapped himself out of the quilt, put away his mug and let the bird inside. He immeadiately ripped the seal off the letter and started reading in front of the open window, even before the owl had taken off again.

Seamus knew that Dean was waiting for a New Year’s Eve invitation by Cho. Her parties were legendary which somehow seemed to make it acceptable to only send out invitations two weeks in advance. To be honest, Seamus was also excited about this possibiliy, but... not tonight.

„Oh. It’s not from Cho,“ Dean mumbled and for a moment, his face fell. But it brightened again fast when his eyes glided over the text. With a smile, he returned to the sofa. „It’s from Neville,“ he informed Seamus, sitting down and pulling the quilt over his legs again. „He says, he’ll spend the holidays with Hannah, travelling to Lapland, looking at Northern Lights and arctic plants instead of listening to his relatives complaining about shit.“

Despite himself, Seamus grinned. „Good for him,“ he said, remembering all the times Neville had complained about his family’s Christmas dinner talks. Apparently, one or the other uncle had some _opinions_. Travelling to Lapland was more appealing indeed! „He might even meet Father Christmas and make sure everyone gets their presents.“

With a flick of his wand, he reheated Dean’s mulled wine and started his playlist from the beginning. With Neville‘s letter out of the way, he’d just restart his plan from the beginning.

But just as Mariah Carey told her audience about how she didn’t _care about the presents  
underneath the Christmas tree_, a sudden rumble from the fireplace made the couple jump. A significant ammount of mulled wine splashed over the quilt (and hit mostly cream-coloured triangles) and an extremely tousle-haired Harry Potter, glasses askew on his nose, stumbled into their living room, looking around harriedly.

„Is he here?“ he gasped out without any greeting.

Dean and Seamus shared a confused look. Usually, it was not Harry’s style to appear unannouncedly in their home and they hadn’t seen him this panicked since the night Ginny had baby James.

„Hi Harry,“ Seamus said carefully.

„Is everything alright?“ Dean asked.

Harry shook his head desparately. „No! James is gone! We’d just left him alone for ten seconds and then the flames were green and he was gone and we’re trying to find him in homes he might have reached... He’s not here?“

Seamus did not point out that in their tiny London flat, a black-haired and squeaking toddler would be hard to hide and that he and Dean would have called Harry and Ginny if said toddler had suddenly arrived alone amidst emerald flames. „Nah, mate. I’m sorry. Can we help?“ he asked instead.

But Harry just shook his head and jumped back into the flames.

With him gone, Seamus didn’t really care about the song playing in the background anymore. „Shit,“ he mumbled. Dean had his fingers cramped around his West Ham United mug. A lost toddler was never good. But a toddler who vanished next to floo powder could basically be anywhere! No wonder Harry panicked. To be honest, Seamus might panic, too.

„Is James even able to say our names properly?“ Dean asked in a small voice.

Seamus had wondered about that, too. But he wasn’t ready to face this possibility. „Yes,“ he thus said with more confidence than he felt. „Harry and Ginny have brought him over so often, he definitely knows how to get here.“ James was indeed a frequent guest as he spent some of his parent’s date nights crawling after Pythagora who seemed to like him. Hopefully the Floo Powder understood the toddler‘s babbling. Given the fact that he called both of them „Deamus“ (by now, the couple suspected Harry and Ginny used this nickname, too) however...

Seamus tore at his hair and Dean had started walking in circles around the couch table, when the fire shon green, again.

This time, Ginny tumbled out with high speed, crashed into Dean and steadied herself in his arms, before blurting out „We found him! Looks like he just played with the Floo Powder and then fell asleep under the tree skirt! Must go back now, having a word with Harry about letting the Floo Powder lie around. Bye!“

And with that, she vanished again.

Seamus and Dean stared at each other for a couple of seconds, the latter dusting down his sut-covered clothes. Then, they broke out in laughter, relief washing through them.

„Okay, I need more mulled wine now,“ Dean announced, falling back on the couch. „But a spiked one.“ With a wave of his wand, he accio‘ed the bottle of Ogden’s Fire Whiskey they kept for special occasions and added a healthy dose to his mug before handing it over to Seamus and reheated their drinks again.

„That’s really enough excitement for one evening,“ Dean muttered, the steaming mug pressed on his cheek.

Seamus frowned. Did this mean he should postpone his plan to another evening? If Dean was tired of anything exciting, maybe this wasn’t the day after all? His heart sank almost all the way down to the ring in his pocket. But before he could make a final decision, their phone rang on the other side of the living room.

„Oh Mum,“ Dean grumbled, standing up for what felt like the tenth time to Seamus. It wasn’t even that Dean was very good at Divination, it was just that noone ever called them on the phone other than his mum. Why now? Seamus truly liked Dahlia, her partner Helen and Dean’s many sisters. From the first visit, they had made him feel like he had always belonged to the family – and had been delighted when Dean and Seamus had told them about their relationship. But tonight, he felt a little resentment, when he watched Dean sitting over there on the small telephone bench, chatting with his mum about their days („I’m telling you, the reindeer really sing all the carols!“), while all he, Seamus, wanted was to put a ring on his lover’s finger and snog him senseless! Seamus glared at the stereo where Mariah Carey announced again that _I just want to for my own_. Fuck yes. It was a mood.

When 20 minutes later, Dean finally finished the call after what felt like a lengthy discussion of every Abba song ever (no, the reindeers would not learn yet another set of songs, really), Seamus felt like everything had conspired against him. An idea that gained further weight when Pythagora came running into the room at full speed, crashing into the tree before he was able to stop her. The baubles flew into the ear, red wax splashed around and the dry twigs caught fire – all in about three seconds. Without stopping to think, Seamus pointed his wand on the tree.

„Aguamenti,“ two voices thundered in the small living room – and Seamus was hit by a strong burst of water. Seamus froze, his wand still raised, blinking the water away.

„Oh shit! Did I hit you?“ Dean was by his sides in one long stride, dripping with water himself. Seamus just stared at him, a small lake forming under his feet. The combined power of their spells had completed Pythagora‘s chaos. Everything – _everything_ – was wet. Puddles were forming on the floor, broken baubles floating on them. Smoke curled over the blackened tree. Pythagora was nowhere to be seen, probably sulking under the bed.

While Dean vanished all the puddles (Professor McGonagall would have been proud: none of the throw pillows were lost in the process) and made hot air stream from his wand to dry the rest, Seamus just decided to give up. There was only so much he was willing to take upon himself in one single evening. Even as a celebrated war hero, a survivor of the Battle of Hogarts, there was a limit. Right here, in this wet room, amidst bauble fragments with feebly moving lion drawings, this limit was reached. He prodded one of the baubles with the tip of his wand. The tiny lion turned his head and opened his mouth in a silent roar. _Gryffindor bravery_ , he seemed to holler at Seamus. _We never ever give up on something we really want!_

He was right. Seamus took a deep breath, turning to his partner. To his utter confusion, Dean stood there, shaking with laughter, in the middle of what, minutes earlier, had been a display of domestic bliss.

„Look at us,“ Dean gasped, „our life’s pretty much a mess, innit?“ But his eyes glittered and he seemed just happy to be here. In their home. Seamus couldn’t help but smile. With one last glance at the little lion, he reached for Dean’s hand. His partner made a move to help him up, but Seamus shook his head and just got to one knee, a smile spreading over his face. Suddenly, all nervousness was gone.

Dean’s chuckling fell silent, he stared at Seamus with round eyes.

„You know, there’s noone I’d rather share this mess with than you,“ Seamus said. The carpet made a squelching noise under his knee as if to underline the messy part. „Dean Thomas, I can’t even imagine how my life would have turned out to be if I hadn’t met you. For almost ten years, you’re completing it. No matter what happens, I know that with you by my side, I can fix anything. Well, maybe not the tree, but... The point is: I never, ever want to be without you again. Do you want to marry me?“

And while Mariah Carrey started to sing the chorus in the background, Seamus took the ring from his pocket, raising it to his partner.

„All I want for Christmas is you to say yes, Dean.“

With a sound, somewhere between a cheer and a sob, Dean fell to his knees, rugby-tackling Seamus, kissing him, whispering „Yes! Yes, yes, yes!“

Pythagora, returning some time later, found them lying on the floor, their limbs entangled, rolled her bronze-coloured kneazle eyes and hopped on the couch to curl herself up under the quilt all by herself. Life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear louminosity, I hope all your wishes come true (maybe without a lot of chaos) and you have a great, great time during the holidays. <3


End file.
